


The Echoes of the Stars

by AvalonNS



Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: Astral Projection, Drama & Romance, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Magic, Minor Violence, POV First Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvalonNS/pseuds/AvalonNS
Summary: It's been a year since the collapse of the mines, and Mae and her friends have been getting along nicely with reality. But, like constellations, everything's more interconnected than she thought. Stars will fall, the skies will split, and dusk will come. Holding onto her friends, Mae has to be the starlight in the all-consuming darkness, lest everything around her burns.





	1. This Dark Canvas

\---~ _Mae_ ~---

An infinite void in a finite space.

My entire body felt sore, every single nerve bursting with pain. I was kneeled on the beige rocks, my battered body buffeted by the howling winds of Possum Jump, clothes swaying as though they’d rip right off of my frame. I craned my head to look to the skies, yet the heavens were naught but darkness. I felt my eyes dilate in fear, my breaths turning quick and painful. I turned to run, far back to the safety of home, the dusting town of Possum Springs, the love and care of my friends.

No. Nothing was there. _Nobody_ was there. A sheer wall of blackness blocked Possum Jump’s only entrance -- and only exit.

I screamed out into the shadows, a measly cry into the roaring storm. The entity of night -- infinitely darker and blacker than my fur -- seemed to shake the cliff, its deep, humming voice coming out in waves, taunting, mocking.

I caught my breath, my eyes wide and hands in fists upon the realization. My body stopped shaking, my emotions burning from fear to hatred to anger. My voice came as a hiss, its feeble sounds somehow echoing through the blinding gale. “Are you _fucking_ laughing at me?” I could feel the gears in my mind turn on overdrive, yet nothing seemed comprehensive. Nothing seemed real. Almost as if everything in sight was just. . . _shapes._

The unspeakable horror did nothing in response, its sheer power sending shockwaves that rocked my body to the core, from my whiskers to the tip of my tail. Needless to say, I was pissed as all _eff._ “What else does your shitty face want from me?” I yelled, yet the only response was a mirthful roar from the monster. “You broke my mind! You took my life! _You killed Casey!_ ”

Gritting my teeth, against the pleas of my burning bones, I managed to stand up, an undying fire in my nightmare eyes. Above all odds, I burst into laughter, the edges of my mouth curved in a crazed grin. “If I’m dying tonight,” I began, the surrounding gale turning into a tempest. Though weak and wobbly, I stood my ground. “You’re going down with me!” With what little power I had left, I burst into a sprint towards the black beast, arm swung back, ready to _die._

I felt my fist impact scale-like skin. The blackness had filled my vision now, blinded by the ebbing twilight, yet I kept punching, kept fighting until the shadows finally overcame me. I screamed out a battlecry, now inaudible against the howling winds. The tendrils of the beast were already pulling at my arms, slowing my frenzied barrage. I knew I was going to die, but I was going to die being _something_ , damn it! I was going to die hurting, die fighting. . . !

\---~-   -~---

The next time I opened my eyes, teeth still gritted, fist swung back for another blow, I was met with a pair of deep blue eyes scrunched up in concentration. _Who’s -- ?_ In confusion, my eyes darted to and fro around the figure -- the teal scales, a black dress, the printed ankh. My mind kept flipping between images of the black beast and the body in front of me. My head wanted to burst, the murky squares and turquoise triangles overloading my memory. I could vaguely hear the sounds of a shout, yet it faded against my ringing ears. In panic, my lungs strained against my chest, my breathing labored.

I could feel my wrists being held tightly, painfully bound above my head. I let out a cry, yet it hardly left my course lips. I could barely move myself now, my hands like lead; a weight kept itself on my torso. My lungs burned. Dark spots filled my already failing vision. Though I continued to struggle, I was losing vigor, my muscles sluggish in exhaustion. _God, everything hurt._

Though forms blurred between the monstrous mass and my best friend, I chanced a guess. “. . . Bea?” I croaked, despite the flickering of her form, to me, unreal. Dazed from the nightmare, my mind raced, crunching on memories that weren’t there.  
  
I could see Beatrice’s face, a mix of seriousness and worry in her eyes. _My anchor,_ I thought. _My home._ “You back, Mae?” she asked.

I felt sick. I felt like unloading last night’s dinner. The entire world danced under my body like an earthquake. Though my entire frame ached, I nodded through the pain. “Yeah.” Gingerly, she let go of my wrists and moved to get off me, laying down beside me on the bed. _Bed?_

I grasped onto the bed sheets, trying to get a grip onto a world that seemed false. _Slow breaths, Mae Borowski. Take it slow. . . Okay._ Despite my tiredness, I took account of where I was, trying to get a grip on reality once again. Cracked alabaster-colored walls. Whitewashed windows shimmering in moonlight.  _You’re in the Santello apartment_ , I thought. _Early in the morning, too_. A home away from home.

I looked at the crocodile laying down beside me. Both our heads lay on soft pillows, our heads on level. Her eyes were closed, her breathing now soft yet rhythmic; she seemed to be resting from getting me through the dissociative episode. Lips pursed in hesitation, I decided to break the ice.

“Beabea?” I called. She simply hummed in question. “I’m sorry.” If I remembered right from the nightmare, I probably gave her a solid punch to the gut. Just _thinking_ about it made me cringe. Yowch. As if that wasn’t enough, an image of a baseball bat and a sickening crunch crashed into my head; a cruel voice of the past.

“Maeday?” she replied. Her voice came with the usual rasp, though tinged with understanding and care. She kept still beside me, save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” she continued. My ears furrowed on my head. Before I could start thinking of self-hate and regret, she cut me off. “None of it was your fault. You were having an episode. I’d be an awful best friend if I left you to handle it alone.”

I gave off a relieved sigh, content and glad that she was able to defuse the situation. Still, I couldn’t help but worry. I furrowed my brow in thought. _Just how much did I hurt her? Is she going to be okay? Are_ we _going to be okay?_ “You good?” I voiced out. “I know I punched you.”

She took a look at me, our eyes finding each other as she gave off a thoughtful hum. “I’ll live. Besides, I did a number on your wrists too. We’re even.” Her eyes locked gazes with mine. She raised the edge of her lips -- a smile; no doubt an attempt to cheer me up. I obliged with a grin in return. “ _You’re_ going to be alright?” I heard her say. I nodded.

We just stayed there on the bed, watching, her scales glistening like prisms in the moonlight. The feel of our restless tails tapping against the mattress was like a metronome, a perfect complement to the comfortable silence. Neither of us dared interrupt the moment, a fragment of time where everything that mattered was right there: me and her. I indulged in her comforting presence, her mellow breaths, the sweet perfume that reminded me of asters and autumn -- I loved it. Jeez. I never wanted to leave. I wanted to stay in this perfect minute forever.

“What’s with all the worry? You’re not usually this caring for somebody _not_ yourself,” teased Beatrice, smirking.

I rolled my eyes. “ _You_ shut up,” I playfully jabbed back.

For another minute, we simply stared amidst the rather comfortable silence. She smiled, not even one of her sardonic or defensive smiles she used whenever she tried to bring a situation to a standstill. A genuine, calm, content smile. I couldn’t stop myself; I gave her a grin of my own. _God._ She was so beautiful. She didn’t need that mascara. She didn’t need the mystical moonlight to set her scales afire in that heavenly sheen. Here on the bed, right now, she was beautiful just as she was. Those sapphire eyes that I get so lost in that I once needed her to snap me out of it. That wide, authentic smile that she reserved just for me. I tried to instill this moment in my head for eternity. . .

Yet the static calls my name. The static right at the edges of my hearing. The static that pulls me back deep into the earth, confronting the elder god, swallowing me in a world of darkness that swamps the very core of my being. Or was it my own calling, that second voice in my head that I’ve tried so hard to repress? The voice that was the very antithesis of Mae Borowski, yet was so ingrained in her that they were one and the same? Nevertheless, the song calls to me, and it fills my head, and I have no choice but to feel it throughout every nerve in my body.

_You’re a piece of trash._

No. No, no nononono. _Not_ _again_. I spent one year recuperating after that damn _stupid_ incident. I had Bea right here, right now, to bring me back to Earth. I had Gregg and Angus to help me forget. So why did I still hear that _fucking song?_ Amongst the static that filled my head, I could feel my own soul fight itself. One word described the horrible feeling that struck my core: _panic._

 _You will never escape_ its _singing._

_I will. Home’s here. Everyone’s here. Bea’s he--_

_You know you don’t deserve her. You know she’s going to leave you. Besides, you know_ it's _going to take everything you ever loved. EVERYTHING. And it’s. All. Going. To. Start. With. HER._

“SHUT UP!!”

Beatrice started, her eyes suddenly wide in surprise. It was swiftly followed with a look of hurt, then turning aloof. I could see her chest heave heavily. “If you’re just going to throw all my help out of the window, then. . .” Her eyes took on a defensive edge, thinning to slits.

 _No, please._ Our perfect moment, _ruined._ It was just as my inner self said. A massive pit of regret churned in my heart. “I -- I didn’t mean -- You see -- I. . .” As though I had drunk a few glasses of watered-down beer, I found myself unable to form the sentences I needed to. I took a deep breath before staring back at the stoic eyes of Beatrice. I knew her. Behind those walls of stone was sheer emotion that she refused to release. I should know; I am one of the few people she trusted with them.

Having regained my coherent speech, I slowly let out my thoughts. “I was fighting myself. Again.” I saw her eyes soften. “I heard the _song._ ”

I got off the bed, walking towards the open windows. Despite the chill night breeze that flowed in, my signature null-branded sweatshirt kept me warm. In fact, the cool gust helped calm me, its presence in my lungs numbing my insides. It felt nice. I looked up, and the sky was black, the stars dotting the heavens like glitter. The familiar constellations greeted me like an old friend.

I heard the springs of Bea’s bed creak. Slowly, her footsteps resounded through the room until I saw her at the edge of my vision. I leaned on her windowsill’s edge; she did the same. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

I sighed. “I can still hear that effing goat’s singing, Bea. I don’t think it’s ever going to go away.”

I felt her reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m not going away either. So don’t you succumb to that old thing, alright? You’re stronger than it. I know.”

I laughed, trying my best not to make it sound hollow and pitiful. I looked up at the sky and saw all my favorite constellations line the space above. Mundy the World Fish. Rubello the Pope. The Fish (just a fish). “You know?”

“Yeah?” She was looking up at the stars, trying to follow my experienced stargazing stare. Though I could see she wasn’t as trained as me in scanning the sky, I appreciated the attempt.

“When I look at the stars, I think about everyone in the old times. You know when everyone still didn’t have the internet and thought the world was flat and an eclipse was the end of the world and stuff?”

Beatrice laughed. “Some people actually still think the Earth is flat.”

I sneered. “Well, they’re idiots. Anyways, I think about the old astronomers, and how they charted the stars. And I couldn’t help but think that. . . that they were looking at shapes too.”

Bea glanced at me, an eyebrow raised. “Mae? Where are you going with this?” It was obvious she was worried. Every time I talked about my dissociation, it always ended badly.

Well, suck it, Beabea. Not this time.

“Angus once said that people were natural pattern-finders. When I look at the constellations, the astronomers saw these shapes, and they gave them a _meaning_. A _purpose._ They saw this. . . this dark canvas and connected the stars, spilling unto them the dreams of entire civilizations, hoping that placing them in the stars will give them greater meaning.” As I talked, the constellations reflected on our eyes like diamonds. On my snout was a pensive smile.

“Now that I think of it, I’m not so different from the old astronomers.” I took a moment to revel in the thought, breathing deeply, imagining it in my head as if testing its words for impurities.

When I looked back to Beatrice, she was staring back at me, wide-eyed, admiration and emotion filling her sapphire orbs. “Holy crap, Mae, you took me on a goddamn journey.”  
  
Sighing, I nodded in acceptance. “Yeah, well, that’s what I think. Give it all meaning, y’know?”

All of a sudden, I felt a pair of tight arms embrace my body. Bea’s warm breaths were pleasant against my fur, her hold secure yet gentle. “Mae? You’re not alone. I’m here. Gregg’s here. Angus’s here. Your parents. We’re _all_ here. And don’t you forget that, okay?” Her voice was cracking, even more than usual. Her words were dripping with care. I could feel her heart pound on my chest.

Whatevergod, my _own_ little heart skipped a beat. I returned the hug, gripping onto her shoulders. I found the crook of her neck, nuzzling into it much like a cat (heh). Beatrice. My lifeline. My tether. My _home._ “Beabea?” She gave me a questioning _hmm?_ “My life. . . my _life_ is this dark canvas. And everyone here. Everyone you named. Everyone that makes it all _hurt_ whenever I feel like. . . leaving. Everyone that makes my life _something_ amid the nothingness. You’re _all_ my stars.” My throat choked on my emotions; repressed thoughts and feelings that I never thought would reach such intensity bubbling under the surface like boiling water.

I felt her wrap around my frame tighten. Her tail slithered to my side, seeking something to hold onto, and I found my own tail inching toward it, intertwining like vines on a trellis. Her muzzle found my shoulder; I could feel a somber smile lift the sides of her mouth. Her breath hitched, cracked, cried. I could feel the tears run into my fur. “Stupid emotions.” She laughed, her voice as fractured as shattered glass. “Maeday. You’re my best friend. When Angus and Gregg leave for Bright Harbor -- I don’t know, maybe next year -- promise you’ll stay by me? I have nobody else. Father only recently gave a shit. Mom’s. . . gone. Nobody else knows about who I _really_ am. And I--”

I brought her closer in my arms, now crying, but still smiling, one that matched the melancholy in hers. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my home, in the same way I’m yours.” I chuckled. “Proximity matters and all that, right?”

“. . . Yeah. Proximity matters.”

So we stood there, in each other’s embrace, crying our insides out to each other, holding on as if tomorrow was the end of the world. And if tomorrow really was the end of the world? Maybe it would be okay. I once said that there were many things that could save us today, and that nothing could save us forever. Then, for once, I would be so happy to have been proven wrong.

If the end really did happen tomorrow? Then, maybe, I just found the one thing that could save Bea and me forever, ‘till that very end.

_Proximity._

\---~-   -~---

After a nice nap for what was left of the night (no nightmares this time), streams of dawnlight now filtered through the curtains. Beatrice was making breakfast. Pancakes, she told me. Strawberries. Maple Syrup. Yum.

On the edge of the bed, I wrote in my journal, lines and dots and other sketches etched throughout the page. The nightmarish dream on Possum Jump. The black canvas, the skies, the stars. Her body against mine, desperately holding on, afraid to let go, lest the current of time wash away everything that was here; everything that mattered. “ _Sappy af talks_ ” written in chicken scratch. In a moment of nostalgia, I flipped to a page containing sketches of Bea. Her lean body, her gorgeous blue eyes, that signature ankh. A bittersweet smile grew on my face as I saw the drawing of a heart. In the middle of it was written ‘ _Maebea one day._ ’

I closed the pocketbook, placing it in my pocket (duh). A year’s passed since what happened in the mines; the murder-cult, the god under the earth, the collapse of those stone halls. Many things had changed.

Gregg and Angus were against a financial roadblock. Taxes. Rent. Minimum wage. A recipe for disaster, those three had been holding the pair back for the past year. Of course, they’ve had progress; they’re closer to Bright Harbor than ever before. “Slowly but surely, one step at a time,” Angus told me. The two’d been closer than ever. I was happy for them. They really _did_ need each other.

As for Bea and me. . . Well, what can I say? She’s my cord to this world. Whenever the Black Goat sings, she’s there, ready to bring me back from the sea of darkness. Though the tunnels crashed away and crushed the cult, the elden god is very much alive. I knew that much. And being my mainstay to this world, I owed her everything.

One thing that didn’t change, however, was our friendship. As a whole, our circle of friends has constantly been looking for ways to destress together, whatwith the burdens of the past year. Whether it be band practice or take-out of not-so-bad pizza from the Clik Clak, we enjoyed whatever hangout we could get.

This holiday season, we knew the perfect thing to do together. We’d been preparing for a pre-Longest Night outing by the State Woods’ lake. Just imagining it brought a smile to my face: the night before Longest Night, just me, Bea, Angus, and Gregg. The fresh forest breeze. The moon reflecting on the lake like a sheet of silver. A bonfire. Marshmallows. Smores. Skipping stones across the lake. Target games with Gregg’s crossbow.  To be honest, I’d never taken time off with the guys for this long ever since that horror night -- which, gladly enough, that mountain was a respectable distance of “far as fuck” away from us, thank you very much.

Constellations. Stargazing from our sleeping bags. Quality time with my friends. And the thought that _tomorrow_ was our little excursion to the lake? Jeez, I could already feel the tips of my fur tingle in anticipation. Life’s taken a rather unexpected turn of normalcy this past year. _This shall not stand._ Still, there was today; try not to get _too_ excited, Mae.

Besides, thanks to my late Granddad and the tender care that my friends gave me to help me back on my feet, I can finally take matters into my own hands. If anyone. . . or any _thing. . ._ ever meddled with our lives again, I’ll make _sure_ none of my friends get hurt. That was my promise to Granddad once upon a time, and I failed to keep it last year’s autumn.

“Take care,” he once said, already in his deathbed, voice as soft as a falling feather. “Not long now, the clouds will open, and the sky will be dark. Protect yourself. Your friends.”

With my confidence back, I can finally handle it all again and keep that promise. The notes in Granddad's old books, a newfound wisp of light in my hands. . . the remembrance knocked me out of my reverie, and I nod with fiery determination in my eyes. I promise this to you, Granddad. We will be safe.

I heard the clattering of plates and silverware on hardwood, bringing me back to Bea’s bedroom. The buttery scent of pancakes found me, and I wasn’t able to stop myself from sniffing as much as I could. I heard Beatrice call my name, and I stood up from the bed, smiling.

My life’s this dark canvas, and who better to guide me than the stars?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! How was that? If there's anything wrong like, anything grammar- or spelling-wise, come forth! Comments will be also extremely appreciated, and each one will be taken to heart. What do you think will happen? Who can't wait for MaeBea? (hint: soon enough!) What's up with Mae's Granddad?
> 
> I'll try to upload chapters weekly, on Fridays, but I do have a life. I also value quality over quantity, so I may take my time, but I WILL post! Anyways, I'll see you all next chapter!


	2. Best Wishes

\---~ _Mae_  ~---

Butter, strawberry, and maple syrup. Paaaaancakes.

The clattering of metal against porcelain filled the room. On the other side of the table was Beatrice, who seemed satisfied with how breakfast turned out. I, too, accepted the greatness that was her pancakes. Though I found mom’s pancakes pretty dang good, I’d say this came a pretty close second.

When I raised my eyes into Bea’s, she gave me a questioning look, an eyebrow raised. _How was it?_ she seemed to be asking. In an almost comical fashion, my mouth was full with freshly-cooked buttery goodness, a hint of berry and maple sticking to my tongue. Without the need for words, there was a silent agreement that we had to refuel after such episodes like early this morning. This was actually one of her better attempts -- one time, the food we’d made was so bad that we had to settle for leftover pizza (which was pretty good in itself, don’t get me wrong.)

Unable to do much else, I gave her a pair of thumbs up, an appeased grin on my face. She nodded in affirmative, a smirk gracing her mouth, a daily quota of “impress my best friend” apparently full.

Silverware clinked and bites were swallowed amongst a silence that only the closest of people reveled in, rather than feared. Swift glances were shared, testing the waters, and a silent conversation was had with our reaching eyes. A raised eyebrow in askance. A joking eye roll. A shared giggle here and there. I liked it -- a talk without the need for words.

Once breakfast was over and the plates placed in the sink, we both crashed onto the sofa, the cushions bouncing beneath our weight. We lay on opposite sides, resting our heads on the armrests while raising our feet into the center. It reminded me of how we slept that night in Gregg and Angus’ apartment.

Though Beatrice had turned on the television (Garbo and Malloy!) it was left ignored as we simply rested on the cozy cushions.

“Hang out with the gang tomorrow, huh?” Bea inquired.

“A _gang-out._ ” Bea snorted, and I snickered. “Yeah. Can barely wait! Still can’t believe Mr. Chazokov lent me his telescope just for this.”

“Well, you _were_ his favorite student. Also, you. . . what was the word you used?”

“Stalked.” I smirked at the thought.

“Yeah. You _stalked_ him for Dusk Stargazing that autumn.” We both laughed at that. “I still can’t believe you have such a passion for the stars. No joke, you should become an astronomer.”

And with that comment, the talk came to a screeching halt. The glee that was on my face crashed to the ground like a shattered mirror, instantly turning unreadable. A look of alarm filled Bea’s muzzle. Not wanting to worry her, I shook my head before taking on the cheerful, caring look that fit my face so much. “It’s fine. It’s just. . . I did. I do. I want to. It was my major in college before. . . you know.”

Beatrice took a sigh of relief, regarding me in silence for a minute. “Do you still want to?” Without even needing to think, I nodded. The stars were my guide after all. Watching them, studying them. . . there was a certain feeling of catharsis and enjoyment behind it I couldn’t understand. I loved it. I remembered the stories of the stars. I remembered the late-night stories of Granddad, and his glorious apple crate of books that I’ve come to time and time again. I remembered my idol, the astronomer who found that which could not be found: Adina Astra.

The yearning on my face was apparent. A determined look became present in Beatrice’s eyes. “One day, okay? When I finally go to college. . . you’re coming with me.” The shock hadn’t registered on my face before a full ten seconds of gnawing on her words. _She’s willing to do that. . . for me?_

“But. . . the cost! College’s expensive, Bea. Also, the transportation, the lodging, food. . . For, one of us maybe, but--”

“Already made up my mind, Maeday. We’re both making decent money at the Pickaxe now; it’s not out of the question. We both have dreams, and I’m not following mine if you can’t follow yours.” My heart swelled at her words. “Besides, let’s be honest here. . . I can’t just up and leave. I’d stay for the sole purpose of your mental health, Mae. And. . . I can’t really stand being alone again, out there, without my best friend by my side. So, that’s that.” She stared at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought.

Such interconnections faintly reminded me of something from Biology: symbiosis. If one were to leave. . . there’s no telling what could happen to the other. I wanted to hug her. I choked on words that refused to leave my mouth. God. Beatrice Santello really surprised me sometimes; witty remarks, sentimental thoughts, and, right now, just how much she really _cared._ She really was something, and, as Granddad would say, being _something_ was the greatest achievement of all.

“Bea. . . that’s really sweet. Same, too, on the ‘I can’t stand being alone again’.” I heaved a sigh, not even noticing that I had been holding my breath. Memories of the past few months flooded my mind, and I couldn’t stop the surge of emotions that filled my core. How she held onto my hand and saved my life in the mines. How she stood up against her dad just so she could land me a job at the Ol’ Pickaxe. How she made the calm orderly months after the incident the best months of my life. After all these months, I can’t help but. . . I shook my head to steady myself. “I should get onto the street. Exercise. It always helped clear my head.”

Beatrice looked back to me from the ceiling, nodding back. We both slowly got off the sofa, facing each other. I rubbed my neck meekly, a slight edge on the smile on my face. Bea grinned in reassurance. “I -- it’s alright, Maeday. Thanks for staying after work, keeping me company through the night. It means a lot to me.”

I gave her a light punch on the shoulder, chuckling lightly. “We were closing up the shop for Longest Night week, and I was tired. I should be thanking you honestly. Especially with. . . well, early this morning.” Honestly? I needed that episode in those early hours. Don’t get me wrong, those episodes are effing _terrifying._ But, now that I thought about it, it helped me blow off some built-up steam, rather than me having to bottle it all up and explode. Besides, I got some quality time with Bea. Always a plus.

She answered back with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. You needed it, and to be honest, _I_ needed it too.”

“Stuck together, huh, Beabea?” I beamed.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Maeday.”

We stood there for few seconds, letting the friendly moment settle in, before I decided it was probably a good time to hit the road. I nodded my head before turning to her apartment’s door. “Well, I should probably --”

Bea's hand suddenly found my shoulder, her eyes tender and soft, silently asking me to stay for a little bit more. “ _Hmm?_ ” I came, inquiring. She had a hesitant, unsure look on her face, her eyes darting around the room to look for anything she could lay it on that _wasn’t_ my eyes. “What’s up?”

“Uhhh. . .” she seemed to be at a loss for words, so I faced her once more and gave the hand on my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. I just stood there now, an eyebrow raised, patiently waiting. Finally, after what felt like half an hour (though it was like, ten seconds), she found the courage to look at my eyes. This wasn’t the usually stoic gothic crocodile that I knew; this was a side of her I hadn’t seen in years. This was her looking for a friend back in middle school, her when we used to be best friends as kids, before my first episode. Uneasy. Anxious. Always trying to be with me, just for the sake of being with me. It felt _good_ to see this part of her, a sign that we never truly left each other’s side, even in those years of disconnection. This was still my Beabea.

Finally, she spoke. “Dad gave me a bunch of money for the holidays.” I nodded, voice hushed, urging her to go on. “There’s a number of new restaurants in the closest town over. You want to hang out? Eat somewhere?”

“Woah, Bea? Asking _me_ to hang out? Usually, _I’m_ the one asking.” I laughed at her, trying to suppress my squealing heart. “You didn’t need to be so nervous. You know I’ll say yes.”

Releasing her bated breath, she beamed. “Alright. I’ll pick you up at. . . four?”

Taking a moment to think, I nodded in agreement. “Gotcha. This place fancy?”

She shrugged. “I dunno, but just wear nice.” I nodded in assent.

“See you then?”

“Yep.”

We had a momentary hug (pat, pat) before we said our final goodbyes. At least, until four in the afternoon.

I exited her apartment and stepped onto the snowy sidewalk of Maple Street, snowflakes falling from the sky like dancing crystals. I’m going to need to drop by home later for winter clothes.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. my entire body was shivering with unreleased energy, and it _wasn’t_ from the cold. I took a heavy breath, calming my body, before I raised a fist in triumph.

“YES!”

I smiled widely. It’s everything I ever wished for.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

This was my chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the slight delay. I might actually move update days to Saturday because of the hecticness of life. I also apologize for the shortness of the chapter; the ones to follow will be longer, I swear.
> 
> Anyways, everything's on its way. Decisions, decisions. Chances, chances.
> 
> I'll see you all on the next chapter!


	3. Casting Guesswork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you all might miss it, the "line break" right as a chapter begins also states whose POV the chapter will be in. This chapter's from Bea!

\---~ _Bea_ ~---

“YES!” came Mae’s muffled voice from the sidewalk.

Chuckling, I found myself crashing down on my couch again, but when I did, my bottom fell on something hard and oddly rectangle. Pain erupted down my tailbone. I gave a distressed yelp, jolting up, rubbing my aching behind.

_Ugh._ Are you joking? Annoyed, I scanned the couch for my assailant until my eyes found a plain black notebook. _Mae’s notebook,_ I thought. My eyes softened. _Must’ve slipped out of her pocket._

I picked it up, placing it on my lap as I sat down once again. I softly rubbed its linen-like ebon cover. I fidgeted around with the notebook, turning it every which way. It reminded me of Mae’s black fur -- just having the thing in my hands made me quite cautious, in its own way. In this book, my best friend’s deepest secrets were kept. I trusted her with the skeletons in _my_ closet; she could trust me with hers. I kept the book closed, keeping it in my secure hands.

_Mae. . ._ I could remember her proudly showing me a page a few months back. She said she drew it that day after Jackie’s party; the single memory made me laugh. Written on the page was “MaeBea: stuck together, don’t suck together” under a sketch of the two of us on that lakeside bench. Not gonna lie, a lot of the things she showed me made me laugh. A lot. Whether it be her random thoughts, snippets of her life, or, dare I say it, _memes_ , she did manage to get a snort out of me.

I wouldn’t dare say this to anyone (maybe Mae, but another time), but I’ve never felt so. . . _wanted._ Sitting on the couch right now, holding what could be Mae’s whole life in this simple notebook, I can comfortably say that. _Never._ Not since mom died. Not since. . . well, not since Mae and I had that break in middle school.

I was so glad we were able to get past that. I kept pushing her away, yet she just kept coming back, uncaring if she was torn or beaten or battered. Chewing on my cheek in shame, I rubbed Mae’s notebook for comfort.

_I was an asshole._

Not even knowing the whole story, I thrashed her into the ground time and time again. Though I did have that right to be angry, I didn’t know the whole story. I didn’t know about her problems. Her depression. Her derealization issue. . .

None of it matters now. I’m just so glad Mae was so persistent to get her old friend back, that stubborn, hardheaded, rash, absurd, crazy. . . endearing, _lovable_ cat.

It must be strange to hear all of this from Possum Springs’ edgy gothic crocodile, huh? Well, get used to it. There’s just. . . _something_ about Mae that makes me, well, _me_. She’s the one person who can bring out the happy, _caring_ side of Beatrice Santello that hasn’t seen the light of day in, what, seven? Eight years? I guess this is just what having a _true_ friend is like. Happy. Even when I was such a bitch to her, she knew I was still in there somewhere. I owe her my life.

To be honest, now that we’ve become as close as we were, I couldn’t imagine life without her. It just seems so. . . boring. Gray. False. Mae Borowski; she really _was_ an interesting person.

Standing up from the sofa, I kept Mae’s notebook still in hand.

I took a glance down the hallway, at the closed room of my father. It was a Longest Night miracle my father still hadn’t woken up. Well, to be fair, it was the holidays. The shop was closed.

Hmph. The shop. Ever since that fight we had about the Pickaxe (and to get Mae that job she so desperately needed), he’s been apologetic. He’s been trying to reach out to me, get us some daughter-and-dad bonding time, but a lot of it turned into talking things out about the past. Hell, he even took days to work in the Pickaxe, giving Mae and me what was technically a paid day off. Don’t get me wrong, I already forgave him for being such a horrible excuse of a father and for being a terrible person in general. He’s been on the road to redemption for quite a while, but he’s still a shadow of his former self. I could only hope that, one day, perhaps, we’ll be father and daughter -- _family_ \-- once more.

I went to my room to change appropriately for the weather (an azure-colored cardigan) before stepping onto the pavement of Maple Street. Fresh footsteps lay in the snow -- presumably Mae’s -- leading off towards the Borowski household. I kept Mae’s black notebook (her blackbook she’d call it, if she heard me say that) tucked under my arm; I wasn’t going to risk leaving it for my father to snoop in.

_Hmmm._ It was still early, maybe ten at most. There was still time before my little outing with Mae. The Pickaxe closed for once, I was actually going to be able to enjoy the holiday season, guilt free. I stuffed my hands in my cardigan’s pockets. With a slight grin on my lips, I walked through the light snowfall for Towne Centre, in search of a particularly gay bear-fox couple.

\---~  ~--- 

I found them just as I crested the hill up Maple Street, the pair chatting it up outside the Telezoft store. Gregg was the first to notice. He waved an arm at me.

“Heya, Bea!” came a very excited Gregg, his tail wagging like an electric fan. I smirked in amusement. Both were in winter wear that, funnily enough, complemented their respective fur colors. “You’re not out often!” Holding his hand was his faithful boyfriend Angus who simply smiled. Their contrasting voices -- Angus’ deep, rich baritone and Gregg’s higher yips -- were a welcoming melody.

“Hey Gregg, Angus,” I replied coolly. “How’re things?”

The brown bear nodded in greetings. “Not much, just taking a morning walk with Gregg. We were just about to circle around to the Clik Clak for breakfast actually. Care to come?” he offered.

I shrugged. “Just had breakfast with Mae. Kinda full, but sure, I’ll take you up on that.”

Finding a place beside Angus, we turned around, making for the Clik Clak diner. “Breakfast with Mae?” asked Gregg, an eyebrow raised. “What’s the occasion?”

I laughed. “We closed up shop for the holidays. She was tired, asked to sleep over. So, yeah. Made some pancakes for us before she went off on a jog.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” Gregg raised his free hand in front of him, the universal gesture for _slow down._ “You slept _in the same bed?_ ” He had an accusatory glare. For some reason, I felt attacked; I found comfort in squeezing Mae’s notebook in my underarm.

I raised a brow, feigning ignorance. “Yeah, so?”

“Isn’t she. . . ?”

“Pansexual? Yeah, she is. _I’m_ not.”

Gregg smiled teasingly, his eyes tilted upward in glee,“Are you suuuuure? Not even a _little_ gay?”

Okay, that was the tipping point. Making a big deal of our sleepovers was one thing, but bringing _this_ up was something completely different altogether. “Yes, I’m sure. _Now stop it_.” My voice came out sharp and curt. I gave him a sideways glare, slitting my eyes.

I saw Angus give a soft squeeze to his boyfriend’s hand. “Bug,” he chided.

Gregg chuckled. “Gotcha, Cap’n.”

We kept walking, but I couldn’t help but think. Despite the situation defused, my insides still hurt. That conversation became too real. _Why?_ There was this great burning question that set my mind afire, one that I never really thought of until recently. _Was I?_ Sure, I lost my virginity to that boy in Math camp, but that was just sex. Nothing but plain, thoughtless, mindless sex.

When I thought about Mae, the storm of emotions that she can spur in me, our soft, caring hugs that warmed me to my core, that sweet sense of gratification whenever I impressed her with something. . . ever since the thoughts, the realizations entered my mind. . . I wasn’t sure. Subtle hints of Mae’s occasional tender words. Her sentiment for. . . well, _us._ I had that resilient sneaking question that I needed to answer: did she have feelings for me?

Dinner tonight was the best way I could think of to ask her.

I once thought of myself as the straightest arrow that ever flew. I found interest in the college friends that Jackie introduced to me in her parties, but now, I have reason to believe that that was nothing but infatuation. Never, not once, before did have this cozy, pleasing warmth in me. Never before did feel truly _wanted_ until Mae came back into my life. _Mae Borowski was my best friend_ ; that much I knew. But, as much as I wanted to deny it. . .

I felt a sudden tugging on my cold-weather cardigan, and I almost slipped on the frosty pavement, doubling over just to regain balance. I looked behind me, finding Angus holding onto the back of my cardigan. Under his glasses, a concerned look was on his eyes. “We’re here,” he said. He and Gregg were already on the steps leading onto the diner, while I almost passed them by. “You okay?”

I sighed, scratching my head. “Yeah. I just. . . got lost in thought.”

We entered the Clik Clak, ending up in our usual booth table. For some reason, it felt. . . _wrong_ , not having Maeday here. The whole squad was here save for her.

When a waiter attended to us, we ordered our food. The pair got sandwiches. I just got whatever my eyes landed on first, which was a milkshake. I just didn’t have the mind to care at the moment, my worry taking up most of my thoughts. Angus raised his eyebrow.

When the waiter left, Angus leaned his elbows on the table. “For real, Bea, is something wrong? Your usual’s coffee here, right?”

I breathed out heavily. “Just. . . Mae and I are eating out tonight. Somewhere on the road. I dunno, celebrate Longest Night or something.” A half lie, but it’ll have to do. “I would’ve brought our parents, but. . . not a lot of space in the car.” Brilliant -- _that_ should douse any suspicions Angus may have.

Gregg leaned his head on Angus’ shoulder, his face twisted in confusion. “Sssooooo? What’s the problem? You two’re like fire and water! Sun and moon. You’ll do fine!”

Angus gave me his usual calculated though meaningful smile. “Gregg’s right, Bea. Just enjoy your night together.”

Nodding, I beamed in return. “I. . . guess. Thanks for the kind words, guys. You’re the best.” I chuckled on the inside. Where would I be without my friends? They helped me trek throughout the bottomless, bleak abyss of blackness that was the past eight years. And now that Mae returned? Somehow, that girl gives me hope for the future. Somehow, Mae gives me hope for any future _at all._

Mae Borowski. Why was _she_ , of all people, the one person to make me feel this way? Her, with all her problems, with all the bullshit that she made me go through, why _her_ ? Doubt tore in me. I _didn’t_ want to like her. _But I liked her._ And I was angry at myself for that.

But at the same time, _it was her_. Mae Borowski and her absolute dorkiness. Her cheery smile, her charming words. I could even swear she lowkey flirted with me maybe one, two. . . okay, fine, maybe a lot of times, testing the waters. Still, the question remained: did she actually like me?

I never liked leaving questions unanswered. I _was_ valedictorian, after all; that came as second nature, whether it be in tests or in my mind. I will just have to wait for tonight.

_Ugh._ I was supposed to be Beatrice Santello, that impassive, intimidating woman that held strong against the throes of society. And here I was, getting mushy for my best friend. _I hated this._ But at the same time, as much as it hurt my pride to admit it, _I needed her._

I came back to reality to the snapping of fingers right in front of my face. I flinched.

“Okay, something is _definitely_ wrong.” Angus watched me with his signature reserved stare. He adjusted his glasses, the fluorescent light shining on it reminding me of those detective anime shows.

I placed Mae’s notebook on the booth table, resting both of my hands on it. Gregg’s eyes widened. “What’re you doing with Mae’s. . . ?”

I cracked my head to him, eyes narrowed, my pupils slits. “ _Shut up._ She left it at the apartment.” Gregg visibly shrank in his seat, his eyes dropping. A pang of guilt hit me. “I. . . I’m sorry.”

Angus leaned his arms on the table; he was being serious now. “Please, Bea. We just want to help.”

Groaning, I nodded. “Fine.” The bear looked at me expectantly, waiting. “Can we go out? Just you and me, Angus?”

He got up from his chair, having already made up his mind apparently. “We’ll be back in a minute, Bug.” Gregg just sighed, nodding.

I followed him to the door. He held it open for me, to which I replied with “Thanks.”

“M’lady,” he returned, standing beside me on the pavement leading up to the Clik Clak. I snickered, and he gave me one of his scarce smiles. “So, what’s the problem?”

I folded my arms. “I like someone,” I said simply.

Angus straightened his back. “I see. I will not ask who, if you’re afraid of that.” I nodded in thanks, but I knew Angus was smart. He probably even deduced it already, but I won’t jump to conclusions. “Do you like him?”

My eye twitched at that. I hugged my arms closer to my body. “I do.”

“Then tell him. It won’t be easy, but tell him.”

I heaved a sigh. “Tonight, I’ll try,” I assured him.

We just stood there. Snow fell, and the sun shone. Silence reigned for a few seconds, a deep, thought-provoking silence, until Angus spoke.

“But you’re having dinner with Mae tonight, right?”

_Shit_. I aligned the nail on the coffin, and he hammered it in. _Shit shit shit. Wrong move._

“. . .You like _Mae_ , don’t you?”

In surprise, I choked on my spit. Like, actually choked, bending over as I coughed up, my throat burning. Angus had to ease me out of it, softly rubbing my back, giving me his strong yet gentle hold. When I recovered from the coughing fit, we returned to standing, watching the snowfall.

“Yeah. I do.”

“So you are. . . ?”

“I don’t even know anymore. But if it’s for Mae. . . maybe.”

We were quiet for a few moments until Angus chuckled. “ _MaeBea._ ”

_Ughhh._ I growled. “Shut up. If I like her, I like her.”

“Fine, fine.” The bear beside me placed a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for being honest by the way. It’s not easy to say things like this.”

I smirked. “Well, _you’re_ the one who guessed it out. You’re smart, and you’re good, Angus. I am honored to have you as a friend.”

He laughed. “Yes, thank you. But, well, I think you should be more honored to have _Mae_ as a friend. Or, you know, to have rekindled your friendship with her. You both had your own problems, mental, familial, or otherwise, but you still made it work. She’s a good person, with even better intentions.” There was a lighthearted calm moment, neither of us speaking. “You did good, Beatrice.”

Raising an eyebrow, I eyed him skeptically. “I’ve. . . never heard you say so much before.” Nevertheless, I laughed back. “Thanks, Angus.”

He took off his glasses, its lens misty from the cold, wiping it against the hem of his shirt before quickly rewearing it. In the split second I looked at his eyes, however, they had gone as misty as his glasses. “It’s not easy to find meaning amongst the storm that is the universe, Beatrice. I found mine in Gregg; I really do hope you find yours. Perhaps, without even noticing it, you already _have_. You have grown so much ever since Mae returned, and, for once, I’ve seen you truly _happy_. You laugh. You smile. You’re freer than you’ve ever been. And just knowing that your reborn friendship with her caused this, I’m positive you’re meant to go this path.”

I smiled. Widely. “Angus, thanks for the input, observations, the talk. . . It really helped.” I knew he wasn’t one for hugs, so I just held out a fist. He bumped it with a knowing smirk. “Not a word of this to Gregg, by the way, please?”

Nodding, he walked to the door and opened it for me. “Not a word,” he assured, a slight grin on his face. I entered the Clik Clak, a weight off my shoulder. Perhaps tonight will be good. Perhaps tonight will be bad. But, knowing Mae, she’d find a way to mess it all up and make it amazing, anyway, that fickle cat.

We walked back to the squad booth. Our food had already been served, and Gregg was sipping on a fresh Fiascola, restlessly kicking his legs under the table.

When he saw us walking back to the table, his ears immediately perked up. “Hey guys! What did you talk about?”

Angus and I moved back into our seats. “She just vented out about a lot of things,” the bear said nonchalantly. Though it wasn’t technically a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth either. Thanks, Angus.

Gregg just shrugged. “Sure.”

I placed a hand over Mae’s unopened notebook, noticing it wasn’t touched whatsoever since I left. Somewhat thankful that Gregg hadn’t had the boredom to open it, I placed it on my lap for safekeeping.

I slid my other hand over the glass of my milkshake, the condensation on its surface cool to the touch. I took a sip, recoiling slightly at the taste. _Sweet,_ I noted. _Tooth-achingly sweet._ It somewhat reminded me of the donuts from Donut Wolf that Mae was so fond of. Ultimately, this is more suited for Mae, but I’ll take it. Not bad.

Taking another sip, I looked up from my drink. Gregg watched with leery interest. “You’ve _really_ been acting weird today.”

Gulping the creamy drink, I rolled my eyes, slightly annoyed. _How many times must you say that?_ Still, I humored him. “Have I, now?” I retorted, sneering. “What if I was just trying something new?”

Gregg threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “But that’s exactly what’s weird! You _wouldn’t_ try anything new!”

I shrugged, a light smile on my face. “Things change, Gregg. How do _you_ know that’s what I wouldn’t do?”

The fox raised a finger, so ready to answer, but not a pip escaped from his mouth. He visibly slumped in his seat, beaten.

“Thought so.” I smirked, victorious, taking another sip from my milkshake.

Angus gave golf claps on the sidelines, an amused look on his face. “Well fought, Beatrice.”

Gregg looked at his boyfriend in disbelief. “Cap’n. . .” he groaned, mock hurt in his voice. “How could you _betray_ me?”

The bear just smiled, his hand snaking to Gregg’s under the table. “A win is a win, Gregg. It happens to the best of us.”

Sighing, the yellow fox met my eyes with a tenacious fire. “I accept defeat. Next time, though, _Beatrice_. . . You better watch your back.”

I leaned forward on the table with a challenging smile. “I look forward to it, _Greggory._ ”

\---~     ~---

Much of the morning was spent with the duo, and, overall, it went better than expected. Gregg wasn’t _too_ much of an ass after that little debate on _who I liked which I’m not going to talk about_.

A chunk of it turned into a competition on who could balance their straw on their snout the longest. Needless to say, Angus won. Jeez, he can be as still as a statue if he wanted to.

At some point, Gregg put empty glasses of water on his ears before casually saying “Got cups on my ears.” My eyes and Angus’ met, silently laughing, and we had what looked like a mixed reaction of _why on earth?_ and _that’s our Gregg._

By 11 or so, I moved out of my seat, Mae’s notebook in hand. I thanked them for their company, and walked out into the frosty sidewalk.

Walking for the Borowski household first, I intended to return her notebook before anything else. Knowing her, she was still going around town; I’ll probably just leave it on her dining table.

For the last time, I tightly hugged Mae’s notebook against my chest before nodding with assurance.

I had a dinner to get ready for.


End file.
